2 posts tagged “dad”
I'm now back in Paris, having arrived Sunday morning. And it's so hard.
My mom had a major stroke, with no warning. Five weeks beforehand we were hiking over waterfalls in Morocco, and now . . . I don't want to be too specific, as my mom is a very private person, so I'll just say that she's making progress, but it's slow, as apparently most strokes are. My mom is young and healthy, so we're hoping she'll make a full recovery, and she's in one of the best rehab clinics in the country. The problem is she's been there almost a month now, and she desperately wants to go home.
My trip to New York was originally going to be just over two weeks, and I extended it to four. Most of that time was spent at the hospital, from 3 to 8 hours a day. I was able to see most of my friends (Jeff and Josh, you're up first next time!), which was fantastic. I really felt supported and loved by all my friends who made time to see me, planned special events near the hospital so I could attend, and sent their love and prayers to room 110A. Every bit helped, so thank you all.
My trip was obviously not the vacation I was expecting it to be. Passover, instead of the elaborate, hours-long meal it normally is, was different but no less meaningful this year. We read the prayers and sang the songs and drank grape juice next to my mom's hospital bed. As the youngest, I sang the Four Questions and made everyone listen to me sing Chad Gadya in Aramaic. I really love that song. I got my hair cut, and went shopping at Old Navy, and attended my 10-year high school reunion (pics to come!), but my mind was always with my mom.
Making the decision to come back was really hard. And leaving her that day to go to the airport was one of the hardest things I've ever done, if not the hardest. My mom is my best friend, and I love her so much. I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful relationship with her, and to know that we love and respect each other both as mother and daughter, and as two women who can make each other laugh.
I talked to a lot of people about what to do: my therapist, my mom's friends, her doctors, my friends . . . and everyone told me that I have to continue my life. And my life is in Paris, as crazy and random as that may be. My dad actually flat out told me that I couldn't stay by saying, "I won't have your life turn into a Victorian novel, with you as the spinster who gives up her life to take care of her ailing mother!" To which I replied, "I'm only 28! I'm hardly a spinster."
Living at home with my dad, just the two of us, was really good. We had just spent a lot of time together in January, obviously, but I think it was important for both of us to have someone to say goodnight to. And to share dog-walking responsibilities! I swear, Teddy is the cutest thing in the world, and kept us both laughing every day. Look at my little muffinhead!
My sister and I worked very well together, sharing the jobs that come with a sick family member, while dad took care of insurance, doctors, and paperwork. Mom was never alone, due to our constantly emailing schedules back and forth. We alternated nights, so that each of us could get some time with our friends, and dad filled in when we both had plans. And now I left it all to them, and I feel so incredibly guilty.
I call a few times a day, but mom has up to six hours of rehab therapy every day, and in between she tries to grab naps. So even when I'm able to get hold of her, we can only talk for a few minutes. And I miss her terribly.
How do I do this? How do I just continue on with my life here, knowing that dad and Tessa are still at the hospital daily? How do I leave my mom to battle this without me? If anyone has advice, I could really use it right about now.
My cousin Sarah and her friend Amanda are staying with me for a quick visit. They're juniors at WashU, visiting a friend who's studying abroad in London. They decided to come to Paris for 2 days, and so far I think they're having a really good time.
I wasn't able to go do the sights with them today, but we did meet for dinner at my tourist standby, L'Entrecôte. Both locations are fantastic, but the Porte Maillot one is so close to my apartment that there's where I tend to go. While the food is undeniably good (although perhaps not that inventive) I am a bit sick of the same meal every time. However, I love my friends' and family members' reactions so much that I'll just keep bringing them back.
Everything from the banquettes, bronze fixtures, and black and white waitress uniforms make it feel like a true French experience, even if half the tables are speaking English/Spanish/Italian/German/etc. But what makes this location even better is my waitress. No matter where I sit in the restaurant I seem to get the same waitress, who is hilarious. These women all work SO hard, but she keeps a smile on her face and the jokes coming. She's constantly talking to herself, and when she brought us the wrong dessert instead of returning it she said, "Tant pis, je vous fais un cadeau/Oh well, consider it a gift" and gave it to us for free AND brought the correct one! Nice!
But my favorite part about her is that, when I took my dad there, on our way out she made a comment about his being my boyfriend. I was horrified. I mean, my dad is extremely good-looking, and does not at all look his age, but still! Ew! He's my dad! So this time we were chatting and I asked if she remember how she shocked me, and she said, "Well your father must be a very good-looking man."
On my way out, I thanked her and said I would see her next time, to which she replied, "Yes, and bring your father!"
